rear, made their way to the sheriff’s office. Cora stomped up
the stairs, pushing open the door without knocking. A man stood
with his back to them, and Cora exclaimed in relief.
“Daniel! Oh, good. We need your help.”
Daniel turned around, and Cora screamed in horror.
Where his irises should have been were blank white orbs, his
face an expressionless imitation of a man’s. He lifted a gun and,
without blinking, pointed it directly at Thom.
Arthur slammed into Thom, knocking him out of the way as
a bang and the scent of gunpowder assailed Charles’s senses.
“Run!” Arthur shouted, pulling Thom up and dragging him
toward the door. Daniel lurched toward them, his movements
stiff and awkward as though he wasn’t quite in control of his
muscles.
Cora grabbed Charles roughly by the arm and they tripped
down the stairs, bursting onto the street outside. “The church!”
Minnie shouted, turning and sprinting down the sidewalk, elbow-
ing a surprised and angry older woman out of the way.
Charles and Cora followed. Thom, glancing back, glared
darkly. “You go! Arthur and I will try to draw him off.”
Before Charles could protest, Cora had tugged him after Min-
nie, and they were running along toward her. She darted through
crowds and sidewalk stalls, heedless of the gasps of indignation
that followed her.
Charles wanted to help Thom.
He wanted to protect the girls.
But he could do neither because he couldn’t breathe —
He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t breathe.
“Oh, Charles!” Cora cried out as he slumped against a wooden
vegetable cart and slid to the ground, gasping for the air that